


Hey, angelface

by captainhurricane



Category: Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Cloud is on the ace spectrum and you can't fight me on it, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, M/M, Pet Names, alley blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Roche and Cloud meet up.
Relationships: Roche/Cloud Strife
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Hey, angelface

**Author's Note:**

> this little rowboat SS RocheCloud WILL sail 
> 
> betaed by the lovely Pin!

Cloud is a person who lives one day at a time. At an earlier point in his life, the future had just been something to fear, something to look to with trepidation. Future had been a nonsensical, chaotic mess; life itself often just jumping from one danger to another. 

Now that life has calmed down, now that the Planet hums under Cloud’s feet, at peace, he finds himself restless, the future stretching into unknown distances in front of him. Thankfully his deliveries take him far and wide, into the wastelands, forests, hills and mountains that gaze up at the sky and give him something to think about, something to focus on.

Cloud has a good life, finally. 

Nothing takes away years of bad and even worse memories, naturally, but he’s at least content like this. There’s Barret and the kids, Tifa and the bar. There’s a familiar voice at the other end of a phone call when he needs it. Perhaps he’s even finally learning how to accept friendship, love, and the caring these people are so eager to give him. 

  
  


Even when said friendship and love comes from an unlikely source, like from the remnants of the Turks: Reno’s a thorn at Cloud’s side, Rufus Shinra eager to build his company back up from scratch. And then - well. 

Roche. There had been Roche. A couple of times. 

  
  


After the fall of Shinra, what remains of its armed forces had mostly scattered to all corners of their wrecked world. What’s left of the now notorious SOLDIER is pretty much decimated, the few remaining Second and Third Classes gone to find a new purpose to their lives. The only one that Cloud still sees at times is Roche, for reasons that Cloud still doesn’t quite understand. After all, they’re not exactly friends. 

Roche had been an enemy, then sort of an ally, then a definite ally, now something - a couple of hook-ups later, he’s an annoying something, gone even more feral from his numerous journeys into exploring their recovering Planet. 

  
  


The guy tends to pop up, here and there, always laughing, always with that same wild glint in his eye. And a couple of times, even Cloud’s unmoving heart had let him fall into that. 

  
  
  


He drives through the wastelands surrounding Midgar, the city itself looming in the distance like a bad memory. Perhaps it will never feel like home, but it’s the one Cloud’s got right now. His bike Fenrir rumbles between his legs, scarred like he is, but always trustworthy and steady. Cloud hums to himself, goggles over his eyes and earbuds in his ears, playing a song. He passes by a group of workers, spots something blue in the distance: it’s just Kalm, of course, the dozing little village that had survived the almost-end of the world with admirable strength. Cloud gazes upon the journey still left ahead of him and continues to hum.

It takes him a moment to realize a new motorcycle has joined in, driving right next to him. 

Roche waves, calls out his name and Cloud slows, Fenrir coming to a stop. Roche rolls close in his giant red monster; now with more scratchmarks, the paint ruined in places. Roche himself is squinty-eyed in the sun, his stupid hair in a ponytail. 

“Hey, angelface,” Roche grins. He’s wearing black leather upon black leather, all traces of his SOLDIER past scrubbed from his person. Yet only a SOLDIER would have a sword strapped to the side of the bike, only a SOLDIER would wander these wastelands with such a wild glint to their eye. 

Cloud would know. After all, he almost was a SOLDIER himself. 

“Roche,” he says, ignoring the endearment. He wets his lips and takes out his earbuds, pushes his goggles to his forehead. The last time they had seen each other had been two months ago; Roche’s mouth having other things to do than talking, finally. 

Cloud lets Fenrir sleep under him, but doesn’t get up. His cheeks feel oddly warm, a curl of heat at the bottom of his stomach. 

Roche lets out an exaggerated gasp, presses a hand to his chest. “Ah! He remembers!” For good measure, he lets out a couple of loud noises from his bike. That poor thing seems like it's seen its share of battles, but clearly Roche has been taking good care of it. 

Cloud grunts. 

Roche leans over his bike and grins. “Then again, we had a delightful time the last time we saw each other, didn’t we?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Cloud fidgets. He hopes there is no blush on his face. Sex had been just - it is just something his body craves sometimes. Mostly he leaves that to other people. But Roche had been around the last time Cloud had felt like wanting, no, had felt like being desired, being taken care of. So Roche had offered and Cloud had accepted, easy enough. 

After all, Roche had jumped ship from Shinra and become the sort of vigilante that Shinra execs probably have nightmares about, ruining Shinra’s reputation one city at a time. Apparently that life had done Roche good, because the guy looks glowing. 

Something at the bottom of Cloud’s stomach stirs. He parts his lips. Wets them. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Raucous laughter is his answer. Roche jumps off his bike, lets it stand on his own and marches to Cloud and Fenrir. “Ever so talkative, sweetcheeks.” Roche runs his hand over Fenrir’s smooth surface, the pink tip of his tongue peeking between his lips. “Damn, your Fenrir is a sexy, sexy beast. How does it rumble between your legs, baby blue?” Roche tugs off a glove with his teeth, his grin feral and hot. 

Cloud sucks in his bottom lip, straightens in his seat. “Baby blue? You’re weird.” But his lips twitch into a little smile, eyelashes coyly lowered. He watches Roche watch him, then slide closer. Roche is always like that, has always been like that; smooth like an approaching panther, hard to read yet ultimately predictable. 

Still a strange one. 

“Yet you like it,” Roche purrs and reaches Cloud’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

Cloud rolls his eyes and huffs. “Sometimes.” It’s worth it, because Roche actually blinks, blinks again, then throws his head back and laughs. 

“Surprised me! Ah, how does the heart beat when my eyes see one such as you, saviour!” the hand remains on Cloud’s thigh, caressing. 

Cloud’s nose wrinkles. “I’d rather take your stupid petnames.” He’s just a guy. He’s just Cloud. 

Roche’s eyes - Mako-enhanced, of course, but of darker blue and darker green than Cloud’s own - glimmer with amusement. “Still a cutie. Well. Well well.” He begins to walk again, caresses Fenrir as she was a living, breathing creature. “Does angelface have some free time? I have been restless of late, my thoughts wandering rather dangerously.” 

Two pale eyebrows climb up, as Cloud leans backwards, squinting at Roche. “Just spill it.” 

Their eyes meet. Roche’s lips part, revealing his teeth. Cloud stares back, unfazed, except for the curl of heat somewhere low in his throat. 

“Wanna go somewhere a little more private, Cadet Strife? Maybe, with this pretty beast under your pretty legs?” Roche strokes Fenrir’s surface lovingly. 

Cloud lifts an eyebrow. “Race you first.” It’s the right thing to say, clearly, because Roche begins cackling and running to his own bike. 

  
Fenrir roars to life and off Cloud goes, towards the long shadow of Midgar. Fenrir and Roche’s red monster clear the wastelands with ease; both are big and sleek, faring well in the rubble and shards littered all over. They zoom past a group of workers, buzzing around a half-built street. They zoom past a group of wild wolves, chasing each other and barking, but unable to keep up with the saviour of the planet and the Speed Demon. 

Roche brings his bike right next to Cloud’s, gives Fenrir almost a playful nudge. “Wanna fuck on top of a motorcycle one day, angelface?” Roche’s ridiculous cackle, the playful toss of his hair. He’s impossible. The whole man, impossible. 

Fenrir screeches when Cloud turns it too hard. He shoots Roche a quick look. “We’re not fucking on Fenrir,” Cloud shouts back. He’s winning, of course, because Fenrir is as much of a weapon as he is, and she never gives up. 

Roche’s red monster roars, and almost head to head they head towards Midgar’s walls. 

They ride inside the city then, slower, slower, until the familiar slums can no longer fit two giant motorbikes inside. Cloud turns to a corner, passerbys jumping out of the way, Roche laughs and laughs and laughs and - 

Their bikes find spots, neatly side by side, against a corner of the main street. Sector 3 is a little unknown to Cloud, somewhere he travels less, but he still doubts it’s exactly appropriate to get pushed against Fenrir and kissed to an inch of his life. Roche isn’t a great kisser, but he’s enthusiastic, and Cloud likes him - somewhere very, very deep - enough to kiss him back. 

“This your idea of somewhere more private?” Cloud manages, gets his teeth on Roche’s stubble and then on Roche’s tongue. 

Roche grabs a handful of ass, but yelps when Cloud flips their positions. “Yeah! No monsters to watch, maybe a few passerbys, who gives a shit!” Roche wraps a leg around Cloud, ruts against him. “Didn’t I tell you once that we can go so far together, so far, sweetcheeks - you’ve unlocked the key to my heart, hear how it roars - “

Cloud kisses him quiet, tolerates the hands on his ass, the laughter against his lips. “You talk a lot.” Cloud remarks and then grabs Roche’s hand and drags him away from the bikes, further into the alley where it narrows so much that they can barely fit themselves in there. Cloud presses his back against the wall and pulls Roche to him, muffles his own whine into a heated, wet kiss. 

Roche’s gloves vanish somewhere in between gropes and kisses, Cloud’s pants, Roche’s pants opened in between grinding and Roche calling him those frustrating, adoring names. 

“Down,” Cloud murmurs. The corner of Cloud’s kiss-raw mouth is turned up, Roche’s eyes so close to his own, the glow of Mako still swirling in their depths. 

“Have I been a bad puppy?” Roche growls, playfully. 

Cloud snorts. He doesn’t mean to. But between this meeting and their very first one, that chaotic motorcycle chase on the highways of Midgar, Roche had stopped being an irritation and is now more of a fond annoyance. 

“Very bad,” Cloud says, deadpan, but can’t deny the twitch in his groin when Roche promptly goes to his knees. 

Roche nuzzles his groin, gets his hands on Cloud’s ass and squeezes. He glances up and winks. “Gonna feed me, pretty boy?” 

Cloud’s nose wrinkles. “Just get to it.” His cheeks are warm. His cock twitches, blood rushing south when Roche licks him through his pants, seemingly unfazed by the taste of leather and wasteland dust. 

Roche unzips him but doesn’t take him out, instead kisses him, takes a playful bite of Cloud’s belt. 

Cloud’s fingers, now ungloved too, slide into Roche’s ridiculous hair and tug. “Roche,” Cloud murmurs. 

Roche glances up, hands and mouth playing at the hardening bulge, eyes dancing with mirth. “Cloudy boy. Baby blue. Keep those baby blues on me.” Roche takes Cloud’s dick out, lets it slap against his grinning mouth.

Cloud blushes, gives Roche’s hair a harder tug. “Roche,” he groans again and then lets his head drop against the wall as his dick is taken into Roche’s warm mouth, those feral teeth kept safely away. 

Roche hums instantly, his fingers warm around the base of Cloud’s dick, the other one vanishing lower, between Roche’s own legs. Roche’s love is wet and laughter-filled, the vibrations of his voice making Cloud shudder and pull Roche’s ponytail. 

Roche pulls on Cloud’s pants, pulls them lower, right to his thighs. Before Cloud can protest, Roche latches his mouth against that one spot on Cloud’s inner thigh, jerking him off, sucking what is going to be a pretty bruise in the morning.

Cloud shivers, always quiet during moments like these. 

“Love the smell of sweat and dust and gasoline, baby blue,” Roche purrs, playfully nips at Cloud’s heated skin, making his way back to Cloud’s throbbing dick, lapping at the tip like a thirsty puppy. Roche gives a little exaggerated moan, slurps Cloud’s cock down, then back up, lets it flop out of his mouth and instead kisses his way to the base. 

Cloud hisses, hips twitching. His lips tremble and open to let out a little gasp when Roche’s curious fingers rub at his taint. 

“No wonder people fall over their own feet for a chance to touch you, baby blue,” Roche murmurs against Cloud’s balls, gives them a generous lick too. “You’re intoxicating. Oh, how my heart roars!” His teeth, his stubble scrape against Cloud’s inner thigh and Cloud shudders. 

“No - no one’s falling over their feet - stupid -” Cloud huffs, eating his words when Roche takes him deep again, deep into his tight throat. 

It figures that Roche wouldn’t have a gag reflex. Roche begins sucking him good, his noises turned into aroused moans and grunts, his other hand in his own pants, jerking himself off. 

Cloud lets his eyes close, his head against the wall as his hips jerk helplessly against Roche. Cloud’s restlessness melts away, sweat rising to his skin under all that covered skin - if he were a more spontaneous person, he would strip down properly right here, bend Roche over Fenrir and make him shut up again. But here Cloud stands, on trembling legs, deepthroated by Roche, who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. 

Roche swallows his spill, throat bobbing obscenely. Roche gives the tip of Cloud’s dick a kiss, draws his mouth away when Cloud swats him, whines once about oversensitivity. 

Roche remains on his knees. “A good puppy always swallows,” Roche cackles and pulls his hand from his pants, painted white. 

Cloud opens his eyes just in time to see Roche begin sucking on his own fingers, eyes locked on Cloud’s. 

“You’re a menace,” Cloud murmurs, but lays his hand on Roche’s head and caresses, watches Roche lick his hand clean. 

“That I am. Now… let me say proper hello to your beautiful girl,” Roche winks and gets up, gracefully. He pulls Cloud close and kisses him on the mouth, pulls his pants up before Cloud can say otherwise. 

“I’m not hanging out with you,” Cloud says, but still tugs Roche by the hand back towards the bikes. 

Perhaps there is time to bend Roche over a bike and dive into him just yet; for all his bravado, Roche spreads his legs eagerly enough, after all. 


End file.
